


Friday Night Revelations

by Vialana



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Developing Relationship, Fluff, Friendship, Light Angst, M/M, Oblivious Noctis Lucis Caelum, Pining, Pining Prompto Argentum, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-04-23 05:01:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14325147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vialana/pseuds/Vialana
Summary: Noctis and Prompto decide to start a band not long after graduating high school. It sounds like a great idea until they realise they have no songs, no other members, Regis' musical legacy overshadowing them, and university classes to worry about.Oh, and there's also the matter of Prompto's not-very-well-hidden crush on Noctis to consider.At least they're having fun while on their way to making it big.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story actually started out as a series of ficlets that were supposed to be just vaguely interconnected scenes in this AU verse but then I realised it would actually work better as a single long multi-chapter fic since the series was turning out more cohesive than I'd initially planned.
> 
> So, if the first few chapters seem familiar to some of you, that may be the reason. The first four chapters were posted as individual stories before I decided to revamp and restructure the whole thing. I hope everyone enjoys it!
> 
> Thank you to everyone who enjoyed and added kudos and comments on those first individual fics! I really appreciate you taking the time to read the fics. I hope you enjoy the rest of the chapters in this fic too.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the beginning of it all, Prompto and Noctis frequent their usual Friday night live music haunt only to watch a friend rip their hearts out on stage in front of a cheering audience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is not my usual Voltron fic, but instead this is the first installment of my FFXV band!AU. This idea has been done before, both in this fandom, I’m sure, and others, but this idea wouldn’t leave me alone until I’d written something. And I don’t even do AUs this divergent from canon.
> 
> I hope everyone enjoys.

Prompto wasn’t sure what was worse: the feel and smell of the cheap beer he’d just bought soaking through his shirt and sliding down his chest in sticky droplets, or hearing a song he and Noctis had worked on for months after hours during senior year being played live at his favourite hole-in-the-wall live music pub by the band their douchebag drummer Dino had fucked off to join after leaving them in the lurch over the summer break.

No, the song was definitely worse. Prompto could always take a shower and wash his shirt. Watching Dino on stage with those assholes who didn’t even know how much time and effort had been put into creating this song was a kind of heartbreak Prompto never knew existed before. (Their bastardised lyrics didn’t even match the music!)

And to think Prompto had actually been sympathetic when Dino told them he was leaving.

It’s not like he didn’t understand the drummer’s frustration: Noctis had no intention of performing live or taking their music further than fun jam sessions. The act of creating and playing was enough for Noctis and Prompto had always supported that. He loved playing with Noctis more than anything else; for him, just being there was enough.

But Dino had always wanted more. So Prompto and Noctis had given their blessing when he was offered a role in another band and promised to come cheer him on once they got their first gig. Just because they didn’t perform themselves didn’t mean they didn’t enjoy listening to and watching live music. And Dino was still their friend even if they weren’t making music together any more.

Well, he used to be their friend. Before  _this_.

Prompto put his cracked plastic cup back onto the bar top before he spilled the rest of the beer on the floor and the bartenders got annoyed (it was a little too early in the night for that sort of messy behaviour). He liked this place and most of the time the staff seemed to like him and Noctis. He didn’t want Coctura and the others pissed at him for something so small.

“Hey.”

Prompto jerked his attention away from the stage, almost relieved to be able to focus on something other than the fact that he had actually been happy for Dino and enjoying the band’s music before they started playing a far too familiar riff.

Cindy, granddaughter of the owner of  _Hammerhead_  and event manager for live music nights, was making her way towards them from her usual spot at the sound desk. The usual bright smile that matched her bright outfits and shiny blonde hair was absent as she looked at them in concern. She reached out to lay a hand on Prompto’s shoulder and, on any other day, he would have swooned at the gentle touch. But, right then, he couldn’t feel anything beyond shock and betrayal.

“I thought I recognised that song.”

Prompto looked away, wincing as her grip tightened before releasing. “Yeah.” Prompto cleared his throat as his voice cracked. “That’s right. You and Noct’s dad were the only two who’d ever heard it. Before tonight, I guess.”

“I’m sorry.”

Prompto tried for a smile but couldn’t quite get his face to cooperate and hung his head rather than looking over to see her sympathetic smile again. “Thanks. But I think we need to go and get very very drunk. Like right now. Whaddya say, Noct?”

Prompto looked over at Noctis for the first time since hearing their song and froze, breath catching on a deep inhale.

Noctis had actual tears in his eyes as he stared at the brightly lit stage and the energetic musicians playing stolen music as though they had ever felt the emotions that went into the song they butchered. The tears hadn’t spilled over onto his cheeks yet, instead making his fierce gaze glisten with suppressed emotion. His hands were clenched into fists and his whole body was tense and almost shaking.

“Prom.”

Prompto straightened up at the sharp tone Noctis used. Noctis had never sounded so severe before, especially not talking to him. He knew it wasn’t personal though—Prompto himself was a hair's breadth away from slamming his fist into something breakable given the right push.

Noctis continued speaking in a blank monotone Prompto knew he used to hide his deep emotions. It made Prompto tear up in sympathy to hear it.

“After we get completely fucking blind tonight, we are going to write more songs and rehearse them until our fingers bleed and we start dreaming about the same riffs every night. Then we are going to find someone to trustworthy to help us to play and record, independently if we have to. We’re going to perform live and then keep performing over and over again, all around Lucis—hell, let’s aim for all of Eos—until we sell out a goddamn stadium. We’re going to make sure everyone knows our songs and no one will even remember these assholes or the pretentious name they came up with to try and hide the fact that they’re song-stealing hacks without a speck of talent between them.”

Maybe it was the single sip of beer he managed before he spilled his drink everywhere, or maybe it was the mood the thick heated air of the pub and the hazy lighting and the ringing of the speakers created—maybe it was just that Noctis’s impassioned speech expressed exactly what Prompto was feeling and thinking—but Prompto genuinely believed that Noctis meant what he said.

Nevermind that Noctis had never wanted to perform live, that his connection to music had never been about his pride or ego. Nevermind that Prompto had never cared either way about performing, just about that moment of connection they shared while playing.

Noctis had that spark now, that desire. And maybe petty revenge wasn’t the nicest start to this plan, but it made sense given what Dino had taken from them. Once he’d made up his mind to do something, Noctis would see it through—whatever happened along the way.

It was something Prompto had always  ~~lov—~~  admired about Noct. And he couldn’t help but get caught up in Noctis’ emotions when he was being so open and passionate.

Prompto finally managed a grin for Noctis, a sharp dangerous smile that mirrored the flame in his heart and the knife in his gut, and slid his hand up Noctis’ shoulder to grip the side of his neck, his thumb pressing into the curve of Noctis' jaw. “You know I’m always with you.”

Noctis mirrored the grip, his fingers tangling in the soft hair at the nape of Prompto’s neck as he gently squeezed. “I never doubted it.”

In that moment, staring into Noctis’ dark eyes, with the echo of a song they’d spent hours working on together fading from their hearing and the faint applause of a regular Friday night crowd at  _Hammerhead_  surrounding them, Prompto knew they were going to do amazing things together.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis is well-versed at talking sense into Noctis while Noctis has always been good at getting Ignis to at least loosen his hair.

The thing about declaring your determination to succeed to the rest of the world (or at least to your best friend and the manager at your favourite pub) was that you had to actually do something in order to bring about that success.

Noctis, however, was not actually very good at  _doing_ things. At least not under pressure—especially if the pressure was self-inflicted. He could tinker around on his piano or guitar as much as he wanted when he was bored and manage to eak out snippets of songs that could be turned into something more if he wanted—he’d just never wanted to before. 

But, now that he did, he sat at his piano with his fingers hovering over the keys unable to remember anything he’d learned and memorised years ago, much less try to come up with something new that could be turned into the kind of award-winning song that would make assholes like Dino puke with envy.

Noctis was still so fucking angry about that gig on Friday. Even the hangover he endured on Saturday when his father decided to drop by in the morning and cook (burn) breakfast while catching up and showing off some of the latest talent at the label couldn't do much more than smother it to a smouldering red ember that flared up into a roaring inferno the moment he had a minute to think.

He knew he shouldn’t be so hard on himself, nothing ever went well when he did, but he’d promised Prompto that he’d think of something over the weekend they could work on together. Prompto would come by with a million ideas and the sort of enthusiasm for their music that Noctis would normally love and Noctis would have nothing to show for his anger and determination but the useless feelings themselves. He didn’t want this to just be an empty declaration of hurt feelings. He wanted to follow through on this.

It was just that saying it was a lot easier than doing it.

Noctis let his hands fall onto the keys, the resultant discordant sound echoing his frustration and growing self-disgust. He laid his head between his splayed fingers—the sad press of his forehead against the keys barely disguising his groan.

“Well, it seems your father wasn’t exaggerating your mood today.”

Noctis turned his head, the piano sounding an ascending query as he watched Ignis walk through the double doors of his large practice room. His old friend was impeccably dressed in the latest fashions, as only to be expected of one of the rising stars of Crystal Record’s heavily competitive intern program. His hair was moulded into an upwards sweep that kept his hair away from his glasses and made him look older than his twenty years of age. 

And he was shaking his head at the sight of Noctis’ moping.

Noctis didn’t care about the judgmental look; he was thrilled to have a distraction from the spiraling thoughts of failure that were starting to overwhelm him.

“How is your timing always so perfect?”

“All these years you’ve known me and you hadn’t yet realised I’m psychic? That expensive education was wasted on you.”

Noctis tucked his head back down, hiding the frown at that comment. Ignis wasn’t exactly wrong. What exactly  _was_ Noctis doing with the finest education Insomnia could provide? Wasting it on playing music no one else would ever hear or probably want to hear. If he could even manage to write anything worth playing.

He let out another groan and pushed himself up from the piano and leaned back, arching his spine so that he was looking at Ignis upside down. “What did he say this time?”

Ignis’ frown looked even more unimpressed from this angle and the lines on his forehead looked even more pronounced. “You know that’s not why he called me.”

“No, really. I’m still working off yesterday’s hangover and I can’t remember what we talked about aside from that new singer he adores.”

Ignis sighed and took a seat in the armchair by the floor-length window. It was the only piece of furniture that didn’t serve a double function as a stool for the various instruments around the room. It was where Noctis’ father usually sat when listening to a new song Noctis and, more often these days, Prompto came up with. Prompto usually plopped himself down on the floor with his mess of tablature and notations until it was time to start practicing. He’d grab the ugly old padded stool in the corner Noctis would swear to throw out every time he was alone in the room and staring at the fraying seams. He never would though; Prompto liked that it could spin faster and squeak louder than the others in the room.

“He just mentioned that you were very quiet at breakfast and that it had been a while since I’d seen you.”

Ignis pulled off his glasses and started cleaning them. It was a classic tell that he didn’t want to talk about something.

Noctis was pretty sure he knew what was bothering Ignis. He spun around on the piano bench and sat upright so he could address Ignis properly.

“You’re not a bad friend. It’s okay that you’re busy. Your internship is important. My dad loves having you on the team. And I like that I actually get to see him at least once a week now. Besides, it’s not like  _you_  missed my graduation.”

Ignis replaced his glasses during Noctis’ speech but winced and almost slid them back off again as Noctis uttered that last sentence. It hung in the air for a moment, making them both uncomfortable before Ignis cleared his throat and leaned forward in the armchair.

“Thank you for your understanding but I do at times need to be reminded to take some time for myself.”

“And you’re spending it  _here_?” Noctis looked around the room, at the grand piano taking up half the space, the stools in the corner, the music stands leaning into each other so they didn’t topple over, the various styles of guitars hanging on the wall, their hardcover cases stacked beneath, and the large cabinet by the door with his violin and Gladio’s old cello tucked away safely.

Ignis smiled. “I have as many fond memories of this room as you do.”

Noctis returned the smile, relaxing as he recalled some of those specific memories. “Yeah. I guess you do.”

They sat in a comfortable silence for a while, only the muffled sound of the bustling city outside the apartment breaking it.

Noctis leaned back to rest against the piano with his elbows, forgetting he hadn’t put down the lid and startling them both when he connected with the keys instead of solid wood.

Ignis shook his head at Noctis’ sheepish grin and cleared his throat. “Actually, there was something your father mentioned that made me curious.”

“Oh?”

“He said you were thinking about performing.”

“Ah.” And the inferno was back. Noctis sat up straight, staring resolutely at Ignis as he said, “I’m not just thinking about it. We’re doing it. Me and Prompto.”

Ignis nodded, tilting his head in that way that told Noctis he was considering his words before speaking. “Not Dino?”

Noctis scowled. “Fuck Dino. That asshole left for greener pastures and took our music with him. I’m going to grind him into dust.”

“Ah.” Ignis leaned back in the armchair. “Now it all makes sense.”

“What?”

“Your sudden desire for fame and fortune. It’s not actually about the music.”

“Yes it is.” No it wasn’t. Noctis wanted to punch Dino’s teeth in.

Ignis arched an eyebrow, as though he could read Noctis’ mind. Given how well Ignis knew him, it wasn’t entirely inaccurate.

“Okay fine. I want to prove that we’re better than him, that we don’t and never have needed him.”

“And how is that working out for you as a motivation?”

Noctis’ scowl answered for him.

Ignis was kind enough not to smirk. His kindness extended further to ask, “May I offer a suggestion?”

“Why not.”

Ignis rose from the armchair and slid onto the bench beside Noctis, facing the large instrument. Their elbows brushed as Noctis spun back around to see what Ignis was doing.

“I find,” Ignis said as his long fingers bounced through a quick progression of chords, “that when I am stuck in the middle of a project or just a problem that I can't seem to grasp, that it’s best to take a step back—not necessarily away—and go back to the beginning to reassess my aim.”

Noctis frowned, watching Ignis play through an old familiar piece they both learned years ago. “But this  _is_ the beginning. Hell, this is  _pre-_ beginning. Pre-conception even. This is thinking about making a move halfway through a third date before ill-advised broken-condom sex that leads to conception.”

Ignis’ hands faltered in the middle of the movement, pinkie slipping to hit a G# that was so far out of key they both winced.

“Sorry.”

Ignis shook his head and resumed a few bars further into the piece. “Your regrettably descriptive panic is pointless and distracting. When I say go back to the beginning, I mean think about why you create music at all. Not just why you want to  _now_ , but why is it that you ever pick up an instrument and just play.”

“You know why.”

“I’m not the one that needs to be reminded.”

Ignis’ fingers danced over the keys. The music that filled the air was slow and soothing. A lullaby. Noctis’ lullaby.

Noctis sat up straighter on the bench and joined in, his right hand mimicking the melody two octaves higher than Ignis. The effect was almost ethereal. They continued playing together, the song so ingrained into Noctis that it felt like he was just using muscle memory to keep playing rather than any real thought or action—like he was just a physical extension of the music.

“It makes me happy.”

Noctis could see Ignis smile out of the corner of his eye. “Me too.”

They closed out the song together, the final chord ringing through the room and fading into silence.

“Just try to remember what’s most important while you do this.”

Noctis let his head rest on Ignis’ shoulder. “Thanks.”

“I am a rather wonderful friend, aren’t I?”

Noctis laughed and pushed him away, not hard enough to make him fall off the bench like he used to do when they were younger. “You just wanted an excuse to use my piano.”

Ignis ran his fingers over the keys in a gentle caress. “I must confess that my upright back home is not nearly as grand as this beauty.”

Noctis groaned and shoved at Ignis again who pushed back with a bit more force and almost tipped Noctis onto the floor.

“See if I invite you over again.”

“Then I suppose I must make the most of this final opportunity.” His hands settled back over the keys. “Another duet?”

Noctis straightened back up and mirrored his position. “Yeah. Why not.”

The afternoon was filled with laughter and music and Noctis didn’t once think about Dino.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto loved these hours they spent together where creating beautiful music sometimes felt like a bonus rather than the purpose. He wanted to remember them all.

Prompto liked to keep records of things; he’d been doing it all his life. He kept everything: school reports, scribbles from kindergarten with gold stickers in the corner, sketches drawn in history class, all of his old textbooks, movie tickets, a train timetable from that overnight excursion to Galdin Quay when he was twelve years old. Everything.

Some of the keepsakes were preserved better than others, like his collection of printed photographs that he kept in special hardcover photo books lined up on the bottom row of his bookshelf. Others were stashed in whatever he could find that fit, like the plastic zip lock bag that held his collection of Justice Monsters discs he used to find in cereal boxes (the cartoon was okay, the games were way better) that was stashed in a box full of childhood trinkets.

So, it was honestly no surprise that he wanted to properly memorialise every moment of  _this_.

“Really Prom?”

Prompto grinned at his best friend, but obligingly turned his video camera away when Noctis kept shoving his hand at the lens.

“You don’t want to record this for posterity?”

“Maybe after I have a shower.”

Prompto shrugged and turned the camera off. That was fair. Neither of them exactly looked their best. The lack of shower might have been an exaggeration, but Noctis was wearing the same shirt he’d worn the day before and Prompto had ditched his contacts for his old glasses hours ago. Neither of them had bothered doing their hair. Noctis looked like a startled mop and Prompto had never more resembled a chocobo nest.

They’d locked themselves away in Noctis’ music room for three days straight after they spent most of a week avoiding doing anything and playing video games. It wasn’t that they didn’t  _want_ to do anything, but inspiration was hard to come by. It was easy to fall into old habits and just hang out and be together.

But part of their friendship was so entwined with music and playing together that it was hard to avoid—even if playing together felt less like fun and more like work this time.

They still hadn’t managed a full song yet, but they’d at least tried. They hard parts of songs—a few riffs and the beginning of a drum line—but nothing cohesive. No lyrics yet. Noctis had tried to make up something on the spot late last night when they were getting changed for bed, but the result had ended up with the two of them collapsing onto Noctis’ over-large bed in a giggling fit when he struggled to find a word that rhymed with “sock”.

“This is hard,” Prompto said, tipping over from his kneeling position to lie on his side facing Noctis on the floor.

Noctis grunted in agreement, closing his eyes. He was sprawled in front of the window, the last rays of sunset settling over him like a golden blanket. The light softened his features, making him glow with the sort of warm ethereal beauty Prompto imagined of the Astrals.

Everything about Noctis was beautiful. The unruly hair that he refused to cut so he could see properly, his surprised laugh, the soft smile he reserved for people he cared about, the grey eyes that seemed to shift shade with his mood, his husky voice when he sang under his breath (so precious for being even more exquisite and rare than everything else about him—Prompto almost cried the first time he heard Noctis sing). Prompto could watch and listen to and just sit with him for hours—days, months,  _years_ —and never experience all of the beauty Noctis exuded.

Lying there, staring at his best friend bathed in fading light, Prompto felt the stir of inspiration in his aching heart.

“Something on my face?” Noctis tilted his head, opening his eyes to meet Prompto’s soft gaze with his own intense look.

Somehow, Prompto managed to quirk his lips into a teasing smile. “Just all of your face.”

Noctis snorted, that tiny smile Prompto adored forming on his lips. “Jerk.”

“You still love me.” Prompto’s heart wasn’t beating faster. It wasn’t.

“I’d love you more if you ordered me a pizza.”

Prompto broke their gaze, sitting up and groping for his phone. “Fine. But only because I’m hungry too.”

“Nice. Stomach twins.”

Prompto fumbled as he was typing the number for Noctis’ local pizza place, laughing at the ridiculous comment. “What does that even mean?”

Noctis had turned over, curling up in the tiny patch of orange sunlight still shining through the window, and closed his eyes again. He was already halfway asleep.

It  _had_ been a long few days.

Prompto snuck a quick photo of Noctis on his phone before leaving the room to order.

Once their usual order was confirmed to be at Noctis’ apartment within half an hour, Prompto went back into the room, careful not to disturb his friend.

Sitting down on the floor in front of the black piano, Prompto reached to grab his battered acoustic guitar but changed his mind and left it leaning against the side of the glossy instrument. Instead he opened the cheap notebook he bought to record what his camera couldn’t. Flipping past the first few pages of scribbles and notes and random jokes they’d managed though these last three days, he found a blank page and started writing.

Noctis peacefully slept on in the periphery of his vision, ever present in every word.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gladio's returned home. Noctis has mixed feelings about this.

Noctis was napping under the tree outside the campus library when Prompto found him and woke him with a rough nudge to his shoulder and a loud “Dude!” as he plopped down beside him in the shade.

Noctis grumbled and tried to turn away from his best friend. It was too late in the afternoon and he was too tired from his morning classes to deal with whatever had Prompto so excited. They were almost finished with the first semester and exams were looming. Noctis’ didn’t want to deal with his anxiety just yet; hence the warm afternoon time out in the library quad.

Prompto wasn’t having it though, pulling on Noctis’ shoulder and dragging him back into the land of the awake and overly-caffeinated without remorse. He kept poking at Noctis with his pointy fingers (he seriously needed to cut his nails) until Noctis gave in and opened his eyes.

“What?” Noctis didn’t try to hold back the annoyed growl behind his words.

Unfortunately, Prompto had known him long enough and well enough now that he was immune to Noctis’ waking glare. He just pouted, sitting cross-legged and looking like a little kid who’d been told there was no ice-cream left. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

“I had to hear from Iris that her brother’s going to be back in town.” Prompto waved his phone in Noctis’ face to emphasise his disappointment about the lack of effective communication from his best friend.

“What?!”

Noctis came fully awake at the news, sitting up so suddenly that it startled Prompto into nearly falling over. Rather than helping him sit up again, Noctis grabbed his phone from where he dropped it—ignoring Prompto’s indignant “Hey!”—and scrolled through the message app to read his latest conversation with Iris.

And there it was: proof in text and Iris’ signature cute emoji.

Gladio was coming home.

“I have to go.”

Noctis threw Prompto’s phone at him as he got up. He took the time that Prompto fumbled to catch it to put some distance between them.

“Whoa! What? Hey! Noct! Wait up!”

Noctis heard Prompto calling out behind him as he ran away from his favourite spot by the library, but he just couldn’t deal with anything right then, not even his best friend’s concern. It wasn’t fair—he knew he was being unreasonable. But he’d make it up to Prompto later.

Right then, he had to get away from everything before he could even begin to deal with Gladio’s return.

 

* * *

 

Noctis stood outside the front of their favourite frozen yogurt place, wasting time and battery life on his phone while he waited for Prompto. It had been two weeks since he ran away from his best friend outside the library and, despite all of Prompto’s subsequent pleading and guilt-tripping, Noctis still refused to talk about why.

Though, the guilt trips were working well enough for him to agree to actually getting up and showering for a froyo date. The overly excited hug when he agreed was enough for Noctis to realise he’d been awful to his best friend these last weeks. He still hadn’t acted on his promise to make it up to Prompto for his actions. Maybe today would be enough of a start.

He was early. Prompto’s shift had only finished half-an-hour ago and he always wanted to go home and shower after work. But Noctis had woken up earlier than normal for a Saturday, despite the hours he and Prompto spent playing video games the night before, and decided to head out before he needed to and took his time enjoying the walk.

Prompto had slept over again, not even waking Noctis when he got up at a very unreasonable hour to go home and get ready for work. He really should just keep a spare pair of work clothes at Noctis’ apartment. He left enough stuff there already to warrant space in Noctis’ wardrobe and dresser drawers (not to mention his hair products in the bathroom).

He could even just move in. It wasn’t like Noctis didn’t have the space, especially with his father spending most of his time in the inner-city penthouse closer to Crystal Records now that Noctis was an adult and finished high school.

Maybe Noctis would bring it up after they finished exams. No point stressing about moving when they had so much else on their plate. Even their music had to be put on pause for a few weeks while they focused on uni. A Saturday afternoon froyo date was about the best they could manage for a break these days (video games didn’t count, okay, that was basically stress relief—a necessity in these trying times).

“Noct!”

Noctis looked up from his phone to see Prompto waving as he hurried down the street.

“Hey.” Noctis tucked his phone away in his pocket. He frowned as Prompto got close enough for Noctis to see his outfit. “What’s with the clothes?”

Prompto came to a halt a few steps away. He blushed and tugged at his shirt nervously. “Oh just …. you know.”

Noctis didn’t know. Sure, Prompto always looked nice when he was going somewhere other than home or Noctis’ apartment—hair styled, clean-shaven, contacts on, wristbands in place. But he’d clearly made an effort this time, not just picking out the first clean jeans and t-shirt that came to hand. He was wearing his concert boots and his favourite vest, both signifiers that he wanted to make an impression.

Noctis, in contrast, had just pulled a wrinkled t-shirt from the top of the pile in the clean laundry basket and grabbed the jeans he’d had on yesterday from the floor of his bedroom. He hadn’t even bothered brushing his hair.

But the clothes weren’t only thing different though. Noctis sniffed at the air near Prompto’s face. “Are you wearing cologne too?”

Prompto laughed and took a step back, an uneasy smile on his face. He tried to avoid eye-contact. “What? A guy can’t take some pride in his appearance?”

“Last night you were wearing old basketball shorts and a faded shirt with so many holes it might as well have been mesh. Try again.”

“Aw, you remembered my outfit. That’s sweet.” Prompto’s attempt at humourous deflection failed miserably as Noctis just stared. His smile vanished and he clasped his hands together tightly to stop himself from fidgeting. “Okay, so, there might be something.”

“Really? Never would have guessed.”

Prompto almost glared at Noctis for the sarcasm but stopped himself. “Yeah, well, just promise you won’t be too mad.”

“Mad?” Noctis felt like the ground beneath him started shifting. “Prom, what did you do?”

“Noctis! Prompto!”

Noctis froze as he heard a familiar voice call out from behind him. Prompto looked over Noctis’ shoulder and started waving. Noctis refused to turn around—his body was so tense he wasn’t even sure he’d be able to without falling over.

“Iris!” Prompto moved to greet the new arrival, arms outstretched for a hug. “I missed you.”

Iris giggled, her delighted laugh the same as whenever Noctis was being ridiculous. “We were just talking yesterday.”

“Yeah, on the phone. It’s been ages since we’ve met up in person.”

“I knew you guys would miss seeing me every day after you graduated.”

It was the hidden melancholy in her voice that forced Noctis to turn around and face the girl he’d known since he was two. It really had been too long since he’d seen her. He did miss passing her in the halls with a wink and a wave. He missed spending the occasional lunch break with her and her friends—even if they were just first years and he and Prompto were third years and supposed to be too cool to even acknowledge them.

Iris, as was her cheerful good-natured way, didn’t even blink at Noctis’ previous rude behaviour. Instead, she smiled at him as he finally turned around to greet her with a sheepish wave. 

“Hey Iris.”

“Noctis, you look like you’ve just rolled out of bed.” Iris giggled again, her hand coming up to cover her mouth as he did so. She was wearing the leather wristband Prompto bought her for her birthday, and her dark hair was pulled back from her temples with the moogle hairclips Noctis had given her. The dress she was wearing was one of her favourites.

She was clearly excited to see them again. Noctis felt like even more of an ass for ignoring her.

“Pretty sure that’s just how he looks.”

Noctis almost didn’t recognise Gladio as he came up behind Iris and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. She leaned into the touch, angling her body towards her older brother who seemed just as receptive to her unspoken attention.

It had been over four years since Noctis had seen Gladiolus Amicitia and every moment of those years showed on Gladio’s face and frame. He was taller and far more broad-shouldered than even Noctis’ imagination could conjure. His dark hair was growing out from the military cut Noctis had seen in photos and over video, slicked back but with short tufts curling around his ears in a way Noctis knew he hated. His face was too tanned and was lined with unfamiliar wrinkles and a second scar on his forehead that made him look even older and more severe than he used to.

His gravelly voice was deeper too, or maybe Noctis had forgotten the sound of it. It was startling enough that Noctis couldn’t even stutter out a comeback for his teasing opening greeting.

Thank the Astrals for Prompto, who took one look at the pale mess Noctis had become and intervened with a cheerful smile and an outstretched hand.

“Hi! I’m Prompto. We’ve never met in person but Iris and Noct talk about you enough that it feels like I’ve known you for years.”

Gladio shifted his intense gaze away from Noctis, allowing him to breathe, and actually smirked at Prompto’s introduction. A familiar glint of humour filled his dark eyes as he said, “You should hear what they say about you, blondie. They certainly weren’t kidding about that chocobo-butt hairstyle.”

Prompto cried out, an exaggerated wail that had both Iris and Gladio laughing. “It does not look like a chocobo butt! The absolute betrayal! Noct!” Prompto swept his arm out, swatting Noctis’ shoulder. “You’re buying my froyo today in recompense!”

Now that he’d had time to gather himself and adjust to the situation, Noctis was able to play along with their usual banter. “What? Just me? Iris said it too.”

“Yeah, but there’s no way Iris is paying for anything with her big brother around to spoil her.”

Iris stuck her tongue out at Noctis and snuggled further into Gladio’s space, holding his arm in the sort of death grip that suggested she wasn’t certain if he was going to disappear again.

Noctis understood the fear. So he let her have her minor victory.

Besides, he did need to make it up to Prompto for the past two weeks.

He sighed dramatically. “The usual?”

Prompto grinned, blindingly bright. “Yes please.” He turned to Iris. “Let’s grab a booth while these two pay.”

“Sure.” Iris let go of Gladio and skipped alongside Prompto into the store to grab the best seat in the restaurant.

Noctis glanced quickly at Gladio before following them in and heading to the counter to order and pay.

The blue-and-white themed shop was busy at this time of day, a long line already formed before they arrived. It was a popular place among high school students, so it wasn’t quite as busy as weekday afternoons could get. But, on the weekend, there were more families with small kids tucked into the wide navy booths and couples on dates sitting on the high cobalt stools under the fluorescent lights.

Prompto and Iris had snagged one of the booths by the window, the two of them sitting opposite each other in the sunlight laughing and chatting. They probably had a lot of gossip to catch up on despite the fact that Noctis knew Prompto kept in pretty constant contact with Iris—much better than he did. Though, to be fair, Iris probably knew better than anyone that talking to Prompto was as good as talking to Noctis too unless she asked Prompto to keep something secret—like the real purpose to this outing.

Gladio shifted on his feet where he stood in line, his presence beside Noctis eerily both familiar and not.

Noctis didn’t know what to say—if he should even say anything. He’d spent almost two years ignoring Gladio so intentionally that it felt too strange to just start up with small talk.

Not that he wanted to. Now that he was over his initial surprise, he realised he was still angry with Gladio. But he didn’t want to ruin today. Iris looked so happy and Prompto was so excited to meet Gladio. Noctis didn’t dare speak lest he start yelling and spilling out everything he’d been wanting to say to Gladio since he left.

“So, I hear you’re starting a band.”

Gladio, though, had never been one to care about Noctis’ social awkwardness or overly emotional state of being. It was comforting to know that blunt forthright nature of his hadn’t changed much, even if it was still infuriating.

Noctis debated not replying, but he could just imagine the disappointment on Prompto’s face and the fake smile Iris would fail to hide her distress behind. So he pushed his resentment to the side for now, hoping to get through the day without making anyone cry.

“Did my dad put out a memo or something?” Noctis still couldn’t bring himself to look at Gladio head on as he spoke in a deliberately unaffected tone, pretending instead to be engrossed with the illuminated menu behind the cashier’s head.

“Ignis told me.”

“Right.” Another person he had to worry about not disappointing.

The line moved slowly forward, bringing Noctis a few steps closer to a reprieve from Gladio’s scrutiny. At least with Iris and Prompto nearby he’d be somewhat distracted.

Gladio waited until another person had been served before he gave into his impatience and grabbed Noctis’ shoulder.

“Look,” his voice came out in a harsh low whisper, “I don’t get this temper tantrum you’ve had over the last few years and, lucky for you, I’ve been too busy to care much about whatever stupid reason you had to cut me out of your life. But, now that I’m back, I’m not going to put up with this shit.”

Noctis grabbed his wrist and tried to pull his hand away but Gladio’s grip was so much stronger than he remembered. He gave up on forcibly removing it and just squeezed his wrist firmly instead, meeting his gaze for the first time since they started talking. “We’re not doing this today,” he said, voice just as low and dangerous as Gladio’s. “Not in public. Not with your sister and my best friend sitting there like nothing’s wrong. Not while I’m in the middle of exams and stressed and sleep-deprived. Not while you’re barely acclimatised to being back and acting like you’re fine when you’re not.”

That got a reaction.

Gladio’s grip loosened and Noctis was able to pry his fingers away from his aching shoulder. He didn’t let go of Gladio’s wrist though.

Now that he was almost too close and actually looking properly, he could see the strain Gladio was trying to hide—the dark circles under his eyes, the taut lines at the corner of his mouth, the frown lines marring the straight red line of the still-healing scar on his forehead.

Gladio wasn’t okay. Another thing for Noctis to feel guilty about.

Noctis looked away, unable to face Gladio’s surprised gaze any longer, and let go of his wrist. “You’re not the only one Ignis talks to.”

Gladio straightened up and turned away. Both of them were now staring intently at the menu without registering anything on it.

The person in line ahead of them reached the counter to place their order.

“Her favourite’s still the same,” Noctis blurted out, startling them both. He hunched his shoulders, feeling his face heat up due to embarassment. “But she’d probably like some extra sprinkles.”

Gladio looked over at him and huffed, lips curling up into an almost fond smile. “You’re a terrible influence on her.”

Noctis glanced over and managed to match his awkward smile. “The worst.”

Things weren’t okay; they were still going to have to talk. Noctis was still angry, even if he was being unreasonable; and Gladio could never resist a confrontation, especially if he wanted something. But, for now, they could manage a sort of peace and a smile for each other. They could order their desserts and sit down with their favourite people to enjoy the afternoon. And they could hope that, given time and effort, their relationship could be mended.

For now, that was enough.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto is having a more difficult time with everything than he’s admitted to Noctis.

Prompto had always been told he was good with his hands. Never in the sexy way (which was a perpetual source of disappointment for him) but quite a few people had admired his dexterity and steadiness from a young age.

He was a deft hand at drawing. He’d never seriously pursued traditional visual arts, but he could sketch well enough when needed and was quite good at drafting. He did enjoy photography as a hobby, though, and his steadiness was beneficial when he needed patience to capture the perfect shot (and not drop the camera when jostled—he learned that expensive lesson very early on).

Prompto had latched onto music with an enthusiasm that startled both him and his parents. They’d put him in lessons to learn the drums since it seemed an easy way to help him burn off all that excessive energy he seemed to produce when he was younger. They soon regretted it when he would play for hours at a time, never tiring of the repetitive practice since every time he hit a skin or cymbol it produced a sound just slightly different each time. He loved that every time he played it was different, whether the beat or rhythm of the song had changed or his mood or actual physical exhaustion was influencing how he played. It was a chaos of his creation that he was allowed to be proud of.

His parents gave him a guitar when they could no longer bear the noise or complaints from their neighbours. He’d loved that just as much as his drum kit and, thankfully for his parents, the neighbours seemed to enjoy it more too.

It wasn’t long after mastering basic chords and developing a repertoire of popular songs that Prompto started teaching himself to sing. He watched endless videos of guitarists online, mimicking how they strummed and positioned their wrists and held themselves so they could both play and project their voice. But, unlike with his other instruments, Prompto was more reluctant to sing when he knew he had an audience—especially during puberty. It wasn’t his voice that people had originally praised him for and Prompto didn’t want to seem egotistical in asking for opinions about it.

(Self-esteem was funny that way. He was allowed to take pride in his talents and skills if other people brought it up first but he hated drawing attention to his body, regardless of who initiated the discussion. If people thought it was okay to criticise his voice, maybe they would think it was okay to criticise other things about him. And Prompto had worked so hard to have the sort of body and face and appearance that passed without scrutiny. Maybe it was better all round if he just didn’t advertise his singing.)

As much as Prompto enjoyed music—and he grew even more attached after meeting Noctis and hearing him play for the first time—he knew that his parents didn’t take it as seriously as he did. Of course they admired his talent and dedication to the art and would praise him in front of their friends, but they never thought of it as a long-term goal for his life. A nice hobby maybe, but nothing he could (or should) make a career out of.

See, when his parents or their friends used to comment about how good he was with his hands, they always used to segue into comments about engineering or science.  _“I hear they’re doing interesting things with mythril plating over in Longwythe.” “Aeronautics is the way of the future, especially if we want to keep up with Niflheim.” “He’s got the same look as my husband. He’s just accepted the job as head of surgery at Insomnia Central, you know.”_

So, when applications for university came around during their third year in high school, Prompto reluctantly put in his choices for courses and decided not to think too much about the future. His parents weren’t wrong about music; it wasn’t like Prompto intended to make a career of it.

Staring at the dismal end-of-semester report in his inbox, Prompto had to reconsider that thought. Because, with these grades, there was no way he was going to be able to pursue a serious career in mechanical engineering. And there wasn’t much else he was good at.

Well, there was his photography, but Noctis hated paparazzi and, in terms of full-time freelance work in Insomnia, that was about all he was going to be able to get with his limited professional portfolio. Not that Prompto was much more of a fan of paps himself, but Noctis had legitimate reason to dislike the entire industry. Prompto was surprised that Noctis posed as willingly and—dare he say—eagerly for Prompto’s impromptu shoots and selfies.

Prompto sighed and threw himself back dramatically on his bed, his laptop teetering precariously near the edge of his mattress before settling against the rumpled sheets shoved at the bottom of the bed. He stared up at the blank ceiling, trying to pay more attention to the hairline cracks in the plaster than the tightness in his chest causing his breathing to quicken.

Sure, he’d passed (barely), but there was no way he could show his parents these results. It was heavily implied that if he couldn’t manage at least a credit average they would refuse to pay his board at the dorm. Sure he had a pretty good part time job with regular hours but, with transport and food costs—not to mention the very expensive textbooks, as well as gear for his music and photography and leisure stuff like games and concert tickets and alcohol (yeah, okay, he could probably cut back a little on some things)—there was no way he could afford even a double room with a shared floor bathroom on campus. And he’d been at university long enough to have heard way too many horror stories about off-campus sharehouseing. (Or just gross stories. Or weird in a way that some people might find sexy but just made Prompto want to gag.)

He’d give it a week before he told them, maybe he could scout out some opportunities in the meantime. His parents might be more amicable and willing to let his disastrous grades slide after they got back from their holiday in Altissia.

(They wouldn’t be.)

Regardless, Prompto couldn’t deal with thinking about it right now—he was barely staving off a panic attack having just glanced at the email.

Honestly, all he really wanted to do right now was get drunk and cry, but he was supposed to meet Noctis for a jam session soon, so that was out. And he’d been aching for weeks to play something with Noctis; it felt like he hadn’t seen his best friend in years.

They’d been too swamped with studying and exams to get any practice in. After the exam period was over, they’d only managed one night of drunken relief before Prompto had to spend nearly every spare hour for two weeks working at the department store at the huge complex a suburb away. His hours increased during the semester break since it coincided with their stocktake. On top of that, a few people had left in recent months and they were short-staffed—hence even longer hours than usual. He’d probably worked in every department in the store at least once by that point. (Toys was his favourite, even if little kids were slobs with no sense of restraint or care for other people around them—some of them were cute and actually put things back in the aisle where they belonged after their temper tantrum failed to influence their parents.)

He felt like that old saying: all work and no play made Prompto want to scream and drink himself into a stupor.

Prompto’s pity-party was interrupted by his phone vibrating in his back pocket.

He groaned and stood up, pulling it out to check his messages.

_Pizza or curry?_  Noctis inquired about their dinner for that night.

Prompto was supposed to be on his way over by now. His overnight bag sat in the middle of the tiny patch of free floor space in his small room, only half-packed for the weekend.

Prompto attempted to gather his thoughts to reply. Noctis was faster.

_Or we could check out the new burger place that opened down the street. Maybe ice cream afterwards?_

Prompto sighed. He  _was_  looking forward to seeing Noctis but mostly because he needed something familiar and comforting. The very thought of food was making him nauseous, which was never a good sign. And he wasn’t certain he could focus enough to play anything good tonight either.

Astrals, this weekend was going to be awful. And would be Prompto’s fault.

Noctis, not telepathic and thus blissfully unaware of Prompto’s spiralling mood, kept texting.

_Who am I kidding. If we’re walking we’re getting ramen and beer._

Noctis knew he had the weekend free from work, so that excuse was out, but maybe he could plead sickness. Although, Noctis would probably call or even come over to check on him if he was sick. He’d probably even convince Ignis to skive off work and cook something like soup then drop by with a thermos and Prompto would feel even more guilty for lying and ruining his weekend.

But sitting in Noctis’ apartment and sulking sounded like a terrible idea too, especially since Noctis seemed so pumped to see him.

Prompto didn’t know what to do.

At the very least, he had to reply to Noctis’ texts.

_i’m good with anything_

As soon as Prompto sent it, he hung his head and groaned.

Sure enough, only a few seconds later, Noctis was calling. Prompto debated not answering but he could just imagine Noctis’ petulant frown as he stared at his phone and gave in.

“Hey buddy.”

_“You okay Prom?”_

“Course I am.”

_“You just never miss an opportunity for curry.”_

Prompto sighed. “Just tired I guess. I’m not really that hungry.”

Noctis was quiet on the other end. Prompto closed his eyes and mentally cursed.

“Look,” he tried to stave off the immediate concern, “I’m fine.”

_“Do you want me to come over? I can pick you up.”_

“No. It’s a five minute train trip and it’s still light out.” Barely. The sun had started to set while Prompto was moping. His room was covered in shadow. “Besides, I’m almost finished packing. Why don’t you order something now and it’ll be there as soon as I get there.”

Prompto winced as he heard Noctis sigh.  _“If you’re sure.”_

“I am.”

_“I’ll get your usual then.”_

“You’re the best, Noct.”

_“I’ll see you soon?”_

Prompto hated that Noctis had to phrase that as a question. “Won’t be more than half-an-hour. Promise.”

_“I’ll hold you to that.”_

Prompto let out a huge breath as they ended the conversation.

So, that was decided then. No point backing out now.

Prompto tried his best to shake off his mood, turning on the overhead light so he wouldn’t trip as he finished packing his bag. He focused all of his attention on the task at hand so his mind wouldn’t wander again. His room was a mess by the time he finished packing but at least he wasn’t dwelling any more.

Duffel bag and guitar case slung over each shoulder, he locked the dorm room behind him and set off to meet Noctis.

 

* * *

 

Despite all the anxiety previously souring his appetite, as soon as Prompto reached the door to Noctis’ apartment and smelled the recently delivered green curry from his favourite shop he felt his stomach rumble in anticipation.

Noctis opened the door at the first knock.

Prompto wanted to wave off Noctis’ concern but, as soon as he saw Noctis’ wide eyes and relieved smile, his own fake smile fell away and he rushed forward to grab Noctis in a desperate embrace.

Noctis’ arms automatically came up around Prompto’s back to pull him closer as Prompto rested his forehead in the curve of Noctis’ neck.

“That bad huh?” Noctis’ breath stirred the hair at Prompto’s nape.

Prompto just hummed in reply, already feeling more relaxed and grounded in Noctis’ embrace.

“Wanna grab some food and talk about it?”

“Not yet.” Prompto’s voice came out muffled. He wanted to savour Noctis’ warm touch—the familiar and enticing scent of him (even if it was just a little sour and unwashed—Prompto probably wasn’t much better after a ten-minute walk from the station).

Noctis shifted his feet, dislodging a scowling Prompto from his position. “Your guitar is poking me in the forehead.”

“Oops.” Prompto pulled back with a sheepish smile. “Sorry.”

Noctis shook his head, his own smile soft and inviting as he gestured for Prompto to properly enter the apartment. “Come on. Food’s still hot. And I got extra rolls and deep fried ice cream for later.”

Prompto dropped his bag on the floor of the living room as he followed Noctis inside. “You are a beautiful man and a wonderful friend, Noct.” He was a little more careful about setting his guitar up against the wall near the window.

Noctis had spread the food out on the coffee table in front of the television, and the space inbetween the couch and the coffee table was piled with cushions and blankets.

They’d made plans to jam tonight, not crash out in front of a movie.

Seeing Prompto’s confusion, Noctis shrugged and plopped down on the floor, starting to open the containers of food. “I figured we needed a night to relax. I mean, I’m eager to get back into writing and jamming too, but I’ve missed just hanging out.”

The fact that he’d sensed Prompto’s fragile mood and changed their plans accordingly to make him feel better went unsaid.

Prompto settled himself in the cushion nest and helped Noctis serve their food. His turbulent thoughts had vanished the instant Noctis sat down and smiled at him. He forgot about his parents and his grades, forgot the exhaustion of last week’s overtime.

Instead, Prompto smiled and laughed with Noctis as they ate.

A C-grade action movie played in the background; they sometimes turned to the television to make fun of a scene or quote melodramatically along with the actors. Stray grains of rice dotted the table and Prompto spilled some curry down his shirt (like he always did) as he tried to talk and eat at the same time. Noctis got up and brought them beers as they struggled to finish the last few bites of food. They turned off the lights and curled up in the fluffy blankets and hummed along to the theme song of the sci-fi show they switched over to once the movie finished.

Two episodes and four beers into their marathon, Prompto told Noctis about the email and his parents and the ultimatum about his grades. They didn’t look at each other in the dim light of the television screen, but Prompto could feel the full weight of Noctis’ attention and concern anyway.

Prompto finished dumping his worries out to Noctis and the starship captain on screen started on his inspiring speech to the crew for the episode.

The episode was almost over by the time Noctis said anything.

“Move in here.”

Prompto’s breath caught as he registered what Noctis was asking. He glanced down at his half-empty bottle to make sure he hadn’t drank more than he thought and started hallucinating.

He looked over at his best friend. Noctis had turned his body towards Prompto, leaning forward and staring at Prompto with a wide hopeful gaze that let Prompto know he was completely serious.

“I …” Prompto struggled to find a coherent argument. “How would that even work?”

Noctis practically jumped at the chance to explain.

“It’d be easy—you already spend so much time here anyway. You can take the spare room——”

“You mean your dad’s room!” No way could Prompto kick  _Regis Lucis Caelum_  out of his own apartment.

Noctis shook his head, the motion so emphatic he nearly fell over.

Four beers was too drunk to drive; they were probably too drunk to have serious life-altering conversations like this too, but Noctis didn’t seem to care.

“I’ve already talked to him. He spends all his time at the penthouse anyway. I don’t even remember the last time he slept here.” Noctis’ excitement dimmed for a brief moment as he spoke about his father but, glancing at Prompto, he returned to his argument. “You can change the bed or the rest of the furniture if it feels weird.”

Prompto was still stuck on the fact that Noctis had already discussed this idea with his father.

As Noctis continued with his pitch—talking about shelf space for Prompto’s movies and making space in one of the corners of the music room to fit Prompto’s drum kit and  _kitchen utensils_  (Noctis had seen Prompto’s dorm room right? Did it look like he had a reason to own kitchen utensils?)—Prompto realised that this wasn’t a drunken spur of the moment thought for Noctis: he’d been planning this.

Sure, maybe Noctis might have brought it up and tried to explain himself a little better if he were sober, but he’d clearly been thinking about asking Prompto to move in for a while. He looked so excited by the prospect of them sharing an apartment. He pointed out the fact that Prompto’s new room had a balcony with an expansive, almost flailing, wave of his arm towards Regis’ room. He poked at Prompto’s side as he teased him about the fancy moisturiser and moulding clay on the bathroom counter. He smiled fondly as he talked about lazy Sunday mornings making pancakes—because pancakes were always better when you had someone to share them with.

Noctis  _wanted_  this.

So did Prompto.

“Okay.”

This was probably a terrible idea. Prompto was drunk and in love—a terrible combination when making major life decisions.

And yet, seeing the way Noctis’ face lit up with happiness at his answer was far more important than thinking about potential future repercussions.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Prompto grinned, probably a little too manic as he got caught up in the excitement of Noctis’ plan. “Let’s do it.”

Prompto’s breath escaped him in a pained huff as Noctis tackled him to the floor in his excitement. He laughed and ruffled Noctis’ hair, feeling the rumble of Noctis’ own laughter against his chest.

“This is going to be awesome,” Noctis said, tilting his head back to look at Prompto. His grin was so wide and bright, Prompto didn’t even care about the fact that Noctis had tackled him onto a cold patch of floor that wasn’t covered in blankets. “Thank you Prom.”

“Seriously? You just solved like every major problem in my life. Thank  _you_ , Noct.”

“I just want you to be happy.” Noctis looked away, embarrassed by his admission.

Every time Prompto thought he couldn't possibly love Noctis any more, he did or said something like this to make Prompto fall head over heels all over again.

Prompto had enough self-control not to admit this aloud but he did drape his arms over Noctis’ back and pull him closer to say, “Right back at ya, buddy.” They both ignored the way his voice broke on the words, just as they ignored the blush that still covered Noctis’ cheeks.

Eventually they would crawl back into their blanket nest and finish their marathon but, for now, Prompto closed his eyes and allowed himself to enjoy the feeling of holding Noctis in his arms.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis and Regis always try to make time for each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the months-long delay with this chapter. Life has not been kind to my writing endeavours and motivation. I hope to return to a more regular schedule with this story.

The only reason Noctis was up before 10am on a Sunday and dressed in the sort of semi-casual clothes that wouldn't get him kicked out of a fashionable water-side restaurant was because of his father. Who was late. And leaving Noctis to the mercy of the small swarm of paparazzi that had got wind of their brunch date.

Good thing Noctis had something clean to wear and actually got up in time to do his hair.

Noctis kept his sunglasses perched on his nose and did his best to ignore the occasional snap as he lingered nonchalantly by the doorway to the old-fashioned building. The photographers were trapped by privacy and trespassing laws on the other side of the filigree iron wrought fence lining the entrance to the restaurant. A poised employee stood nearby behind a podium, waiting to escort Noctis and his delayed dining partner to their table.

The sudden increase of noise from the crowd on the street informed Noctis that his father had finally arrived.

A sleek black town car pulled over right in front of the entrance, where the photographers gathered. Regis opened the door and stepped out with a charming smile. He was dressed in one of his many suits—grey this time, with pinstripes, and a dark blue tie. He tapped on the top of the car with his ever-present cane and his driver pulled back out onto the road and drove away.

Though he didn't deliberately pose for photographs, he did nod to the small crowd and take his time walking to the gate, answering all questions posed to him with a simple, "I'm just here to meet my son for brunch. Any questions you have regarding my work or the artists I promote can be addressed to my agency."

A few tried to inquire further about the brunch date, asking pointed questions about Regis and Noctis' personal life that Regis ignored entirely.

Noctis tucked his phone away and wandered down towards the gate while this was going on and met his father as he walked in.

Regis' charming smile turned warm and familiar as he looked at his son. "Good morning, Noctis. You look rather nice today."

Noctis ignored the teasing jab he knew was as much for the paparazzi still lingering nearby as it was a comment on the fact that his buttoned-up black shirt was actually ironed for once.

Noctis pushed his sunglasses up onto his styled hair. "Hey dad." He reached out and wrapped his arms around Regis' shoulders, oddly comforted by the fact that his father was still taller than him even with his posture slowly worsening due to his cane and limp.

Regis returned the embrace, pulling Noctis in as close as possible with one hand cradling the back of his head. "Thank you for making time for me."

Noctis pulled back, fighting the smile he wanted to show. "I should be the one to say that."

Regis winced. "It has been a rather busy few months."

"For both of us." Noctis cocked his elbow out and Regis laid his hand on it, tucking his now unused cane under his arm, as they made their way into the restaurant.

"Ah yes, how were your exams?" Regis asked as the server led them inside and through the small restaurant to the tables on the balcony overlooking the water.

Noctis shrugged. "About how I expected." He pulled his father’s seat out as they reached their table then took his own. "I'm topping the composition class."

Regis smiled, delighted. "Noctis, that's wonderful! I'm incredibly proud of you."

Noctis ducked his head at the sight of his father's joy. "It's my favourite class," he said, trying to downplay the achievement.

"I'm not surprised." Regis chuckled. "You've always had a knack for tinkering with songs and playing with structure."

Noctis smiled down at his menu, embarrassed and pleased by the attention. "How's that new singer working out?" he asked, changing the subject.

Regis sighed. "The album is taking a bit longer than we'd hoped," he admitted and started explaining the situation with the young singer and the clash with her assigned producer and manager.

Noctis sat up and listened intently to his father's stories. Regis did the same when he found a way to segue back to Noctis.

They ordered a pot of tea to share and their usual breakfasts—Noctis a pile of bacon and pancakes and Regis a healthy omelette with chilli.

Despite the time spent apart, their conversation didn't feel stilted. Regis gesticulated wildly with his fork whenever he got excited and he chided Noctis for speaking with his mouth full. Noctis laughed easily, his smiles coming more naturally now that he wasn't being observed and whispered about by strangers looking to make money from him. They teased each other about silly familiar things like Noctis' overuse of syrup and the way Regis cut his food into minuscule pieces.

It felt like only days had passed since they last saw each other, not months.

They lingered after finishing their food, conversation still flowing strong, and ordered more drinks. A dark roast this time for Regis and a sweeter cappuccino for Noctis.

"Are you enjoying living with your new roommate?" Regis asked.

Noctis took a sip, considering his answer. He hadn't lived with anyone aside from his father (and mother) before this time with Prompto. Sometimes he had stayed with the Amicitia family when Regis was away with work when he was younger and occasionally Ignis would come over for a night or two, but it had been at least a month now living in a shared space with Prompto.

"Yeah," Noctis said, frowning as he drew out the word. "It's different, but it's good."

"Not at each other’s throats then?" Regis watched his son over the rim of his cup.

Noctis shook his head. "We were both a little worried at first, I think. Moving in with your best friend—it sounds great, right? But what if you start hating each other after like a week. It wasn't like that with us but ..." Noctis trailed off, frowning.

"But?" Regis prompted him.

Noctis shrugged, sliding down in his seat. "It was weird. Prompto was acting so timid. Like he didn't want to take up too much space—which, you know, before he moved in, he left his stuff everywhere. Half of the shirts in my wardrobe were his." Noctis sighed. "He got over it, I guess. I might have kept telling him that it was his house now too, he was allowed to make a mess so long as he helped clean it up. Must have sunk in. He’s still a little quiet sometimes."

"Give it time. It's better that you're both trying to be considerate of the other."

"Yeah, you're right. And maybe it's just because those first few days were spent rearranging everything too. We didn't get much time to just hang out like we normally did or work on any music until like a week later."

Regis hummed excitedly. "Ah, yes. Your musical endeavours. How is that going?" He leaned forward, eyes almost sparkling with eagerness to hear more.

"Actually ..." Noctis looked away from his father and started fidgeting with a stray napkin. "I wanted to ask you a favour." His eyes widened as he realised how that sounded and his head whipped back to his father in panic. "Not like a _favour_  favour. Just like a _dad_ favour."

Regis smiled. "I'm more than happy to help, as your father. Though I hope you know that if you did ever need any professional assistance you could always call me."

"I know, but I like doing things this way." It was genuinely comforting to know his father supported him, but Noctis really wanted to see what he could do on his own. "Besides, I don't think we're at that point yet. I still can't even get up on stage, which is probably more important to work on."

His father, better than anyone, knew how much Noctis hated being the centre of attention.

"You're not entirely wrong I suppose."

"That's kind of what this favour relates to." Noctis reached into his pocket for his phone. " _Hammerhead_ has an open mic night every Monday. Prompto and I are aiming to get up one week soon just to see how we go. We've got a few songs prepared, but I just really wanted an outside opinion on the one I was going to perform by myself."

He flicked through his screen to find his recording app and lined up the song they'd recorded the night before. He slid his phone over the top of the table to his father.

Regis smiled as he picked up the phone and pulled out a set of earbuds from his jacket pocket. "I'm honoured to be the first to hear it."

Noctis looked away again. "It’s not completely finished or polished, but be critical anyway.”

Regis slipped the earbuds in and tapped the play button on the phone.

Noctis couldn't watch his father’s reaction—or, considering that his father was a professional, his non-reaction. He turned away to stare out at the water instead.

Seagulls dove over the sparkling water of Insomnia Bay and white sails dotted the horizon. The sound of the birds calling and gentle waves lapping against the wharf were calming. It was a beautiful cloudless day, if a little chilly. Noctis was glad for his jacket, even if the midday sun was hot on his neck.

Noctis finished his cappuccino as he watched a long yacht glide over the bay to dock nearby.

"Noctis."

Noctis looked over at his father, trying to read his face for anything.

"This is genuinely impressive."

Noctis let out a heavy breath. "Really?"

Regis nodded. "It's a beautiful song and both you and Prompto perform it well." He wasn't smiling, but somehow that made his praise feel all the more genuine. "As you said, it's unfinished. I think you need to work on the bassline and maybe add another instrument. It feels a little lopsided."

"I have a piano score written, but I was having difficulty threading it into the piece without it overshadowing the lyrics."

"Yes, I can see how that might be difficult. But the piano is a good idea to make the song feel more balanced." Regis tapped at the table. "Do you have any plans to involve other people in this?"

Noctis frowned. "Like, a manager?"

"Like more band members."

"I hadn't really thought about it." Noctis looked back out at the water, thinking it through. Part of him hated the idea of involving anyone else (look at what happened with Dino) yet his father always gave him good advice. Plus, he and Prompto couldn't play all the instruments live. "Maybe."

Regis nodded, knowing that was the best he would get from Noctis at this point. "Perhaps that's an idea for another day. For now, I think you should perform this song. It's more than good enough for an open mic night if you’re playing solo with your guitar. And, you might be surprised how helpful performing in front of strangers is for your creative process."

"Yeah, okay." Noctis smiled. "Thanks dad."

Regis reached over to put his hand over Noctis', sitting on the table. "I am so proud of you, Noctis. Your mother would be too."

Noctis smiled at the praise, hoping he could continue to live up to it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto and Noctis go to open-mic night at _Hammerhead_.

Barely three weeks into the new semester, Prompto cracked.

"I need to get out and do something that isn't school or work," he said, voice muffled due to the fact that he was leaning his forehead against the dirty metal table he and Noctis were sitting at outside the main university cafeteria. It was cloudy and a little chilly that day, so most people were inside for lunch but Prompto hated how thick the smell was inside because of the many a varied food options to choose from. And, since it was cheap uni food, most of the places weren't subtle about how they over-seasoned their food with whatever they had at hand to hide the quality of their wares.

Noctis, mouth full of said cheap food (a burrito today instead of his usual Monday noodles), just nodded. He swallowed before asking, "Where?"

Prompto raised his head enough to fold his arms under his chin. "Arcade's closed on Mondays."

"Movie?"

Prompto wrinkled his nose. "We've already seen all the good ones out. Unless you want to go to the artsy place downtown."

Noctis was the one to wrinkle his nose this time. "Pass. That place is only good on Thursdays when they play the underground Niff stuff."

Prompto shrugged. "Some of the films they play on weekends are okay. I like their festivals. But yeah, not really in the mood for a movie tonight."

Noctis took a sip of his nutri-shake—one of the only healthy concessions he would make for Ignis and his father's (and now Prompto's) concern, even if he did still pack it full of chocolate. Prompto finished off his own veggie and citrus blended smoothie as he tried to think about what he felt like doing.

(He just really didn't want to be here—on campus, or tucked away in his room with his textbooks—thinking about how much he hated the direction his life was taking, academically.)

"Well," Noctis said, drawling the word like he wasn't sure how Prompto was going to react to his suggestion. "We could always go to _Hammerhead_."

Prompto sucked up the last dregs of green smoothie through his chewed-up straw with a frown puckering his forehead. "I don't really have the spare cash for a night out drinking. Pay day's on Wednesday."

"I know. I was more thinking about the open-mic."

Prompto stopped gnawing on the end of his straw. "Like, to perform?"

Noctis shrugged, hiding behind his shake. "Yeah, I mean, if you want to."

Hell yeah, Prompto wanted to, but ... "Do you want to?"

Noctis glared at him, shoulders hunching defensively. "I suggested it, didn't I?"

"Yeah, but, you know you don't have to push yourself."

"I'm not." He sighed, relaxing somewhat. "I mean, I am, but in a good way. I want to try. I told you how my dad liked the song, right?"

Prompto nodded. "Yeah." He smiled at Noctis. "Well, okay, if you want to try, I'm definitely up for it. I'll just have to remember to pack a few motion-sickness bags just in case you feel like puking once you're up on stage."

"Asshole." Noctis threw a balled up napkin at Prompto's head, but he was fighting back a smile. "You ready to go?"

Prompto nodded, piling all his rubbish into the container his nachos came in. "You're not gonna finish that?" He pointed to Noctis' shake.

Noctis pulled a face. "It's just the bits left."

"The bits are the best part!"

Noctis' expression of disgust was so exaggerated Prompto couldn't help laughing. He grabbed the discarded cup before Noctis could throw it away and sucked loudly on the straw.

"You are such a weirdo," Noctis said, throwing away the remnants of their lunch into a nearby bin.

"Says the guy who's never eaten a vegetable in his life."

"Enjoy my backwash," Noctis said, throwing a wave over his shoulder as he headed towards the arts and humanities sector of the university campus.

"Thanks! I will!" Prompto happily sucked down the rest of Noctis' shake as he walked towards Engineering and didn't once think about the fact that Noctis' lips had been wrapped around the very same straw just minutes before.

(Okay, so he might have thought about it once.)

 

* * *

 

 

 _Hammerhead_ wasn't as packed on Mondays as it was most other nights. Only one bar was open, the small one between the stage and the ground floor toilets. The back bar by the entrance lobby and cloak room was shut for service, though the water station was still open as were the smaller lobby toilets. The upstairs bar, balcony and private rooms were all closed. Instead of an open floor, tables and chairs were set up in front of the stage, and the overhead lights stayed on all evening, even if dimmer than the bright stage lights.

Cindy was set up at the back of the floor in the sound desk when Prompto and Noctis arrived. The first performances were due to start in half-an-hour, so she was running through a quick light and sound check before the crowd trickled in. A few other people had arrived early, seated at tables near the stage and the bar with drinks and a few of the snacks that were available.

Prompto quickly claimed the empty table in front of the sound desk and grinned up at Cindy.

"Hey there, pretty lady."

"Gentlemen." Cindy tipped and imaginary hat to them as they took their seats. She raised her eyebrows as she took in the guitar cases they had with them. "Well now, seems we have a few more performers tonight."

"First time for one of us." Prompto pointed at Noctis.

Cindy grinned, leaning over the top of the sound desk carefully—so she didn't dislodge the switches and knobs she'd been carefully calibrating. The pose had the "unfortunate" side-effect of displaying her low cut top and bountiful cleavage quite prominently. Prompto allowed himself an indulgent glance as she teased Noctis.

"I'll be gentle poppin' your cherry."

Noctis blushed bright red and sputtered as he tried to come up with a reply that wasn't embarrassing or insulting or both. Cindy just leaned back, easing up on the innuendo-laced atmosphere, and laughed at his distress.

"You're still so darn cute, Noctis." She leaned over to Prompto, pitching her voice low in a pretend whisper Noctis could clearly hear, to say, "His ears used to turn red like that back when he was a babe. Pawpaw's got pictures somewhere. I'll show 'em to you next time."

Prompto put his hand to his heart and grinned up at her. "You are a goddess, Cindy."

She pushed her hand against his cheek with a smile. "Stop it, you flirt. I gotta get on with this. You know where the sign up sheet is." She gestured to the side of the stage where a few people gathered around a sheet on the wall.

"Got it. Let me know if you need any help."

"Well, if my barista doesn't turn up soon I may have to take you up on that offer."

Prompto looked over at the bar. Only one employee stood behind the partition taking orders. The second cashier station, next to the coffee machine, was empty. "Again?" Last time he'd been to an open-mic night the barista was late then too.

Cindy shook her head. "Different barista this time. I just have the worst luck."

"Well, the offer stands."

"Thanks, darlin'. You two better sign up before all the good slots fill up."

Prompto nodded and ushered Noctis away from the sound desk to let Cindy get back to her work and over to the stage to see what times they still had open. The sign-up sheet was separated into 5-minute blocks. Rules listed at the top said no more than three consecutive spots could be taken by a single act or artist.

They waited until the people already lined up had written their names down in their preferred slots. Prompto didn't really care about when he performed but some people were quite picky (or superstitious) about this sort of thing. He didn't know if Noctis was one of them.

"So, what would you prefer, early or late or some time in the middle?" Prompto picked up the pen hanging by a string attached to the clipboard.

Noctis was staring at the columns of printed times and scribbled names with wide-eyed panic.

Prompto had been expecting this. He waved his hand in front of Noctis' frozen gaze and made sure Noctis was focused on his fingers before moving his hand and drawing Noctis' attention to his face.

"Hey," he said softly, doing his best to calm Noctis down. "I told you before, if you want to back out and try again another time, we can do that."

Noctis blinked as he listened intently, Prompto's words slowly sinking in. He let out a shuddering breath and shook his head. "No. I can do this."

"Okay." Prompto smiled at him. "But, how about I go first? Then we could play together, then you could go solo."

Noctis' breath slowed and evened out as he thought it through. "That sounds good," he said. "Can we try that?"

"Sure. Let me find three spots together."

Prompto was glad they'd come early. At the bottom of the first page, only an hour after the performances started, there was a fifteen minute block. It was probably better to get Noctis up on stage as early as possible so he didn't have too much time to freak out. He wrote their names down.

"All done. C'mon, lets get some drinks."

Noctis nodded, not even protesting as Prompto grabbed his wrist and led him past the people waiting to sign up over to the bar.

The barista had shown up while they were in line, he was already busy filling back-orders. Rather than ordering their usual beers, Prompto got Noctis a hazelnut coffee with liqueur and himself a mojito. Since they weren't aiming to get drunk tonight, they might as well enjoy their drinks.

Prompto shrugged at Noctis' inquisitive look. "You need something to calm you down."

"Beer is calming."

"Sugar works better with you."

Noctis hummed in agreement. He tended to stress-eat chocolate around exam times. Ignis had come by the apartment a few times while Prompto was studying there (before he'd moved in) with freshly baked cakes and a bag full of his preferred coffee beans. Neither of them got much studying done those nights, staying up instead to hear Ignis complaining about some of his less productive coworkers and chiding Noctis about his eating habits after seeing him stuff a third cake in his mouth. But they did sleep better. Noctis always looked more relaxed the next day (though part of that might have been the coffee Ignis always left behind which was infinitely better than anything the campus coffee shops could produce).

Once their drinks were ready, they moved back to the table and their instruments. Cindy was mostly finished with her set-up, talking with one of the regular stage-hands and pointing to the microphone setup. More people had drifted in, many with guitar cases or keyboards. One guy had a compact electric drum kit. Another had a tuba. Three girls chatting at the front had smaller cases resting on their table—flutes or clarinets, maybe.

"An eclectic bunch," Noctis said. He'd already finished half his coffee.

"You'll fit right in then. Bet you could play all of these instruments."

Noctis took a closer look at some of the other performers before shaking his head. "My lung capacity isn't great for most brass and woodwind."

"You can still play most of them though."

"Not for a fifteen minute set, which sort of defeats the purpose."

Prompto shook his head, marvelling at how Noctis missed his point entirely. "You're a wonder, man."

Noctis scowled and took another sip of his coffee. At least he wasn't getting caught up in his nerves about his performance any more.

The overhead lights dimmed to a warm glow and everyone clapped as the MC for the night—a flamboyantly dressed man in a bright purple suit—stepped up to the microphone to greet the audience and a spotlight focused on him.

Noctis reached over the table and gripped Prompto's hand. He was sweaty and trembling. Prompto turned his hand over and laced their fingers together, squeezing back to let Noctis know he wasn't going anywhere.

 

* * *

 

 

"So what song are you planning on performing?"

Prompto looked up from the tuner attached near his guitar pegs. It was the first thing Noctis had said since the performances started. Noctis had held onto Prompto's hand until Prompto asked if he wanted another drink after the second performer finished her set. He had seemed calmer, sipping on his second drink—partly due to the alcohol, partly due to the fact that he could see the performers who had already gone were just as nervous and new to this as he was. (Except for the third guy; he belted an off-key cover of a classic rock song with the sort of enthusiasm and glee that Prompto wished he could have all the time. But even Prompto had limits—that guy looked like he was ready to start a mosh pit even without a crowd. Now _that_ was confidence.)

Noctis had his own guitar out and had already finished tuning. They were seated on the chairs just by the stage stairs. Their slot was up next. Prompto's leg was bouncing as he felt the rush of adrenaline that came before performing on stage.

Prompto was suddenly nervous—not just excited— to start performing. He cleared his throat. "I, uh, I've actually been playing around with something."

Noctis sat up, setting his guitar aside leaning against the wall. "Yeah?"

"It's not really finished. Just the lyrics and the chords."

"I can't wait to hear it."

"Yeah?" Prompto couldn't help the hopeful tone of voice or how his heartbeat sped up.

Noctis was incredibly earnest as he nodded his head. "Yeah. Your lyrics are always fantastic and you make everything sound good."

"Thanks man." Prompto ducked his head. "I really wanted you to hear it. I ..." he swallowed, faltering at the last second and chickening out of confessing what the song really meant to him, "... I think it'd sound really great if we could play it together one day."

"I can't wait." Noctis smiled, genuinely excited to listen to Prompto's song.

Applause from the crowd in front of the stage broke them from their whispered world. Prompto looked up to see the three girls on stage curtsying in their long dresses (they'd played some kind of calm meditative music with flutes and gentle percussion and one of the girls sang in a high ethereal voice—Prompto had paid attention to the first of their songs at least before making sure his guitar was tuned).

Prompto breathed in deeply as the girls passed by on the stairs then let it out again in a loud huff. "Showtime." He grinned at Noctis, who gave him a thumbs up, and climbed the stairs, guitar in hand.

He picked up the lead for the amp and plugged it into his acoustic. He looped the guitar strap around his shoulder and strummed a few times, twisting the pegs to tighten the last two strings he didn't get to finish tuning properly, before stepping up to the mic with a bright smile for the engaged audience.

"Hey everyone." He gave a little wave. "I'm Prompto. This isn't my first time up here but it has been a while, so be gentle with me." He grinned at the muted laughter from the crowd. "I'm gonna sing one song before I drag my shy friend Noct up here to join me."

Prompto cleared his throat, smile fading as he started to focus on his performance. "This song is for someone very special to me. I hope you all enjoy it."

He wrapped his fingers around the neck of his guitar, positioning them for his opening chord, and started to sing.

Prompto stopped paying attention to the crowd as soon as he opened his mouth. All of his thoughts and feelings were turned inward, reaching down into the depths of his heart to pull this song out into the open. He didn't notice how the crowd went quiet as he sang or how he fumbled the chord transition at the end of the bridge or the way his voice squeaked on the high note in the chorus; the feeling of the song still came through.

His heart beat in time with his strumming. The lyrics exposed his deepest longing. He looked out into the crowd, searching for the person he was singing this for, even knowing that Noctis was watching from the side of the stage.

It was terrifying; every thought, every hidden feeling, was emerging from Prompto's lips as he sang and he couldn't stop himself anymore—didn't want to stop. As much as it terrified him, in this moment, emboldened by the music and the spotlight, he wanted Noctis to know how he felt—how much he wanted to touch him, hold him—how every moment spent beside him was a joy. He wanted Noctis to know he was loved, that he'd changed Prompto's life just by being there. He wanted Noctis to know Prompto would do anything just to see him smile.

Prompto's voice faltered as the song wound down, the chords slowing with the diminishing intensity. He felt wrung out and raw, standing alone on stage in front of dozens of strangers. But it was also such a relief to finally be able to sing and play and pull out all of these feelings he'd kept inside for so long.

Prompto strummed the final chord of his love song with a smile on his face. He bowed as the crowd applauded, laughing as the last of his nerves ran through him.

He heard clapping from close by and turned to see Noctis climbing up the stairs onto the stage.

Prompto didn't even think as he bounced over to pull Noctis into a hug—so glad to be up here with him, so happy to see Noctis smiling as he stood in front of all these people.

"That was amazing, Prompto."

Prompto squeezed him tighter. "Thanks." His heart was still beating so fast.

"I'm sure Cindy loved it."

... wait ... what?

Prompto pulled back, his smile somewhat confused. "You thought the song was for Cindy?"

Noctis grinned, his lips quirked in that half-smile that meant he was teasing. "Who else? You're kind of obvious."

Prompto felt a little light-headed, so he just nodded. "Yep. That's me. Totally obvious."

Noctis leaned down to pick up his lead while Prompto was caught up in processing Noctis' huge misunderstanding. The squeal of feedback as Noctis slid the lead into his guitar made them both wince.

Prompto shook himself out of his daze. His feelings (and Noctis' obliviousness) could wait. He settled his guitar back into a comfortable position and moved back to his microphone.

He smiled over at his best friend, doing his best to project calm confident energy toward Noctis, who was still clearly nervous despite the bravado he'd displayed while congratulating Prompto. He hid his face behind his messy hair as he ducked his head, fingers trembling slightly as they hovered over the fretboard.

"Hey," Prompto whispered, moving his head so the words wouldn't be caught by his microphone, "you ready for this?"

Noctis glanced out at the crowd briefly before focusing his entire attention on his guitar. "About as ready as I'll ever be."

"That's the spirit." He reached over with his fist proffered. Noctis rolled his eyes but obligingly bumped his own fist against Prompto's knuckles. "Now, let's blow this crowd away with our awesomeness!"

Prompto started playing the opening riff of the first of two songs they'd prepared to play together that night. Noctis joined in on the third repetition of the riff, playing his harmony a fourth up and adding a few flourishes to the chords and his strum pattern as he always did when they jammed. Prompto would never get over how amazing Noctis was with improvisation.

When Prompto started singing, he looked out to see quite a few heads bobbing along to their music. He kept checking on Noctis throughout the song. Noctis never faltered in his playing, but he also never looked out past the edge of the stage. He glanced over at Prompto occasionally, as though making sure Prompto was still beside him. Prompto always met those searching glances with a grin or a wink, doing his best to ease Noctis' nerves.

They powered through their first song with ease and were met with loud applause at the end.

Noctis did look up then, eyes widening as he took in the positive reception. He managed a smile for the crowd and shared a grin with Prompto before starting their second song—looking more at ease than when he first started playing.

So, maybe things didn't quite go to plan with Prompto's indirect confession. But seeing Noctis slowly relax and really get into performing on stage was beautiful to watch.

Prompto had all the time in the world to tell Noctis how he felt. He knew he could say it aloud now. The hard part was done.

Standing up there in the spotlight beside Noctis was just as amazing as being in love.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on Tumblr: [ladyvialana](https://ladyvialana.tumblr.com/)


End file.
